


No Really, It's An Old Satedan Custom

by zillah975



Category: Stargate: Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Humor, M/M, Multi, OT4, Smut, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-25
Updated: 2009-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-05 06:38:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zillah975/pseuds/zillah975
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronon looks at them. Teyla's got one eyebrow raised in that beautiful arch that says she's thinking something over. "How do you celebrate surviving it?" he asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Really, It's An Old Satedan Custom

"Think 'get cleaned up' means 'sleep for a week' too?" McKay asks as they trudge into the team locker room.

"I don't think so," Sheppard answers. He unbuckles his vest and slides it off, wincing.

Ronon closes the door behind them and turns the lock.

"Doctor Weir will want us to debrief soon," Teyla says. Passing behind her, Ronon runs his hand over her hair and she looks up at him. Sheppard turns. Ronon strips his shirt off and starts to unbuckle his belt.

"Whoa, there, cowboy," Sheppard says, holding up his hands. "You wanna wait until it's just us guys?"

Ronon looks at Teyla, then back at Sheppard. He frowns. "No."

Sheppard gapes.

McKay turns away from his locker, fidgeting with one of the straps of his vest. "Can somebody help me here?"

"Sure." McKay's hands hover like moths while Ronon untangles the strap, then gets the vest off.

"Thanks," McKay says, then, "Oh, hey, what are you--" when Ronon slides his shirt up. "I can--hey!" his voice muffled. Ronon drags it up and off; McKay isn't exactly fighting it.

Ronon looks at Sheppard and Teyla. "What are you guys waiting for?" he asks.

"Well, an explanation, for starters," Sheppard says. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What?" Ronon scowls. "Weir's not gonna wait all day. Come on."

"Come on _where?_"

"Ronon," Teyla says.

He looks at her.

"Earth customs are often more reserved than Athosian customs," she says. "Perhaps it is the same with Satedan customs."

He looks from her to Sheppard to McKay. McKay's skin is pale, paler than Ronon thinks it should be, but there are more muscles under that shirt than he would have assumed. He wants to lick him, the sharp salt taste of that moon-pale skin. "You don't have sex after a mission like that?"

Sheppard's gaping at him again, and Ronon resists the urge to say that if he's gonna leave his mouth open that way, he shouldn't be surprised if someone wants to put something in it.

"Have -- uh," McKay says, his gaze darting around the room without resting too long on anyone, and his skin's less pale now as blood rushes to his face and throat.

Ronon looks at them. Teyla's got one eyebrow raised in that beautiful arch that says she's thinking something over. "How do you celebrate surviving it?" he asks.

There's a long silence, and Ronon starts to think maybe he should have checked first. But who would have thought that they _didn't?_

Teyla gets to her feet. "That is a good question," she says.

"Yeah," Sheppard says quickly, "that's--"

"And it sounds like a wonderful custom," Teyla goes on, and she half-turns away from Ronon, still looking at him. "Can you help me with the laces?"

"What?" Sheppard's on his feet now, and Ronon's grinning, sliding his fingers underneath the lacing of Teyla's shirt. She doesn't need help; she's gotten out of this thing a million times, but she's like unwrapping a present, and he carefully starts unknotting the lace.

Teyla looks at Sheppard. "You do not wish to participate?" she asks.

He sputters. "Custom!" he says, and "what?" and "now wait, this-- we're--"

"We're alive, Sheppard," Ronon says. "We're alive, and we're together. We're team." We're family, he doesn't say. We're together.

"Colonel," says McKay, and Sheppard turns. McKay has his resolve face on. "I think you're being very rude." He reaches for Sheppard's belt and Sheppard's too busy gaping at him to stop him. "Ronon is our newest team-mate, and we should respect his customs."

"You-- what-- respect?" Sheppard bleats. "_You_ think _I'm_ being rude?"

Ronon gets the last of the lacing loose and Teyla slips her shirt off, and he has to stop and look at her for a moment, the dusky glow of her skin where the dirt couldn't reach, her full breasts with dark nipples already stiffening. McKay and Sheppard are still arguing over who's more rude, but McKay has Sheppard's pants down and it looks like he's going to have his mouth busy soon. He reaches for Teyla, sliding his hands over her waist and drawing her close. She loops her arms around his neck and meets his gaze steadily.

"Satedan customs," she murmurs, "are very different from Athosian customs."

He tips his forehead to hers. "Is it okay?" he asks.

She smiles. "Yes."

**Author's Note:**

> For [comment_fic at Livejournal](http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/), in response to the prompt [SGA, John/Rodney/Ronon/Teyla, "no really, it's an old Satedan custom"](http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/8047.html?thread=819567#t819567)


End file.
